by Amara Royce
His jaw hardened. “So, had you stayed, you still would not have married me?”
“When did you know, Gordon?”
“What?”
“When were you made aware that the land merger and the railway deal essentially hinged upon our marriage?”
“What does that matter?”
“It matters a great deal. When did you know?”
In a tortured, impatient voice, he replied. “Remember the day I said we should have our banns read in June?”
She remembered. An echo of that shock ran through, the stunning shock she’d felt when the amorphous future marriage to Gordon coalesced into the cold, hard fact of a wedding date on a calendar. It was one thing to think of being Gordon’s wife as some abstract possibility in the distance and quite another to think of an interminably monotonous existence on the neighboring farm. As his wife, day in and day out, her life would be circumscribed by the needs of the farm. Then, too, she’d felt the rush of infatuation with Isaiah, riotous emotions and sensations the likes of which she’d never, ever had any hint of with her betrothed.
Would having a station built in Marksby have made a significant difference? Somehow, she doubted it. Both families might have benefited financially for a time, but Gordon now was functionally the same man he’d been then. A good man, undoubtedly. Dependable, hardworking, responsible. But he had no aspirations beyond the farm’s success. He’d never wanted to see or do anything more. She didn’t fault him for that. In fact, she almost envied his singular focus. But she would have died inside, one day at a time.
Gordon cleared his throat and said, “My father informed me that morning. He said that the consolidation of our lands would be a strong inducement for the rail representatives. He didn’t order me to do anything specific, just gave the clear impression that a marriage sooner rather than later would be advantageous.”
She’d already been smitten by Isaiah at that point. She recalled how she’d clung to him, distraught, when he’d met with her a few days later. He’d been agitated when he’d arrived, and that was the night he’d first suggested they elope. The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence, she realized. Isaiah must have known about the arrangements. To him, there were other towns that would do just as well for a station. She’d been tossed back and forth like a child’s ball. But, no! She’d made her own choices. Isaiah hadn’t kidnapped her. Had she known of these emotionless financial undercurrents, would she have still gone with him?
Even now, when she looked back, she couldn’t believe she’d taken such a mindless risk. It all could have gone so wrong. If Vanessa or really any of her boys or her nephews and nieces tried to do such a thing, she’d be among the first to barricade them in their bedrooms and nail the windows shut. But she’d eloped. And she’d found a loving, devoted husband, a doting husband who’d indulged her desire to see the world. They’d made a beautiful family. When she’d said, “All will be well,” she couldn’t in her wildest dreams have imagined her life with Isaiah would flourish that wonderfully well. Until the day he had been taken from her.
“I’m sorry, Gordon, but I wouldn’t have married you. I didn’t love you, and you deserved someone who did.”
“You were always so blind to my feelings,” he responded caustically. “I’m sure you couldn’t have known, but I wanted to marry you and not just because of our families. We’d known for so long that we were intended to be together. I suppose I developed expectations. I built my own vision of what our future together would be like, and I wanted it. Your prediction wasn’t so different from my own—I imagined coming in from the fields for dinner to be welcomed home by you smiling and surrounded by all our beautiful bairns. But my vision was a lovely thing to me, not the prison you pictured. No, this work doesn’t make for an easy life, I’ll grant, but I find it deeply satisfying, and I believed you would too.”
“You were born to this life,” she acknowledged, “and you are uniquely suited to it. I knew then that you were meant to keep the Lanfield farm thriving, and not just because it was expected of you. I knew this was the life you craved, and you were so lucky to have found it so directly. Not everyone finds their path so clearly aligned with their happiness. You needed someone who would feel as at home here as you do, someone who found joy in the land and the beasts and the labor just as you do. I would have tolerated it, but you deserved more than just reluctant acceptance.”
“Daniel’s done playing your errand boy . . . although he made quite a show of it.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, a cold fist squeezing her heart.
Gordon’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “You’re a smart woman. I’m surprised you didn’t ferret out the scheme yourself, especially after I found you in Daniel’s home the morning after the rainstorm. He warned me not to be too theatrical, but I knew better. He was afraid I’d drive you off then, but he doesn’t know you like I do. I knew my affronts against your man would make you dig in your heels.”
“You know nothing about me!” she said, grasping at the first thing she understood. “You had a scheme? To what end?”
“You should have suffered terribly for your desertion,” he replied, every word loaded with bitterness. “And yet you look hale, you speak of a happy life with a pretty family, and you lead a life of luxury compared to how we scrape and scrabble here with no guarantee of security from season to season.”
“What was this scheme?” she asked again, enunciating every word with growing indignation.
“Married or no, you broke your troth and abandoned this village. Your reputation here was already ruined long ago.” At that, his mouth twisted into a grotesque smile. “The problem is that you still show no remorse. You have no shame. So it wasn’t enough for someone to bed you; such a faithless slut would be easy to seduce. No, you had to be convinced of some deeper emotion, some romantic commitment. You had to be wooed. And Daniel did his job quite admirably, though I can’t account for how he could stomach touching you.”
Gordon’s harsh words stabbed at her, every syllable another shiny finely honed blade slicing through the core of her. This was exactly what she’d feared. She’d forced herself to suppress those instincts, those alarm bells, in order to trust his word. Fool. Desperate mindless frowsy ninny. There weren’t enough words she could heap upon herself. But focusing on the words was the only thing that kept the horror at bay.
Had Daniel’s kindness all been an act? Had his passion been fabricated as well? How he must have laughed at her. Her face burned, even as a chill surrounded her heart. No. He wasn’t lying to her, she was sure of it. He wouldn’t. His intensity, his open affection, his tenderness—he wouldn’t fabricate those. The Daniel she knew wouldn’t play such games with someone, not even for revenge. He would be straightforward in his approach, instead of masking his true feelings.
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? A midnight tryst. Danny has you panting after him. Didn’t need much to catch your eye.”
“I don’t believe you. Daniel abhors lying and duplicity. He felt contempt for me when we met in London, and he wouldn’t hide it, not even for the sake of polite society. He wouldn’t toy with someone’s affections, certainly not after the way his spouse played him on a string for so long.”
“Poor woman, you tell yourself whatever pretty tales you need to tell for comfort. Nancy was exactly the spark to this cleansing little flame. By doing to you what she did to him, he can obtain retribution and restore his manhood. Revenge and rejuvenation in one fell swoop.”
He took an ominous step toward her, and she felt the doorknob dig into her back as she retreated.
“It’s best you go, Mrs. Martin. Whatever business you had here this evening is for naught.” His tone implied that he knew the personal nature of her intended business with Daniel. Her face heated. No, she couldn’t believe anything Gordon said. Daniel would return in time as promised, and everything would be made clear.
“Good-bye, Mr. Lanfield. I wish I could say it was a pleasure se
eing you again.”
“Likewise,” he said as he followed her to the door and slammed it behind her.
Yet again, Vanessa rechecked the bedrooms to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind that they might need. She checked under the bed, behind the wardrobe, in every drawer, including drawers she knew they hadn’t used. She even peeled back the sheets and remade their beds, twice so far. She had to do something while they waited to leave. Aunt Helena didn’t look well, no doubt weighed down by the stress of traveling. What would happen if her aunt had one of those spells again—or another awful trance like the one in the cart? She couldn’t whistle worth a farthing, but it was more than that. Mr. Lanfield had a calming way about him. No matter what the occasion, during these few weeks, his harmonizing effect on her aunt had become increasingly clear. Could they truly make this trip without him?
“Ness, stop fussing up there and come down, lass,” Gran called. “Come and spend a wee few moments with me before you go. How will you miss me properly otherwise?”
She grinned. Such a singular woman. She could only imagine what it must have been like to be raised in this home, with Gran’s guiding hand. She’d be happy to leave behind the filthier chores, but she’d miss that old woman.
“In a blink, Gran!” She took a final sweeping look around the room. She’d thought it so worn and outdated when they’d arrived. So foolish and shallow-minded, she had been. Every piece in this room had a history—the quilt on the bed made from scraps crossing three generations of Thortons, the pillows her great-grandmother had stuffed with goose feathers, the lace curtains knit by a grandmother she had never known. It was no wonder Mother and Father berated her for being a slave to fashion. She’d thought them miserly when they refused her extravagant fabric choices and flashy accessories. Shame washed over her as she recalled her petulant complaints about having to reuse the fabric from outgrown dresses. She traced the circular pattern of the quilt, wondering if her mother knew this one. If her mother would let her come back, maybe Gran could teach it to her.
In the sitting room, Gran stood by the side table, turning the pages of a book filled with tiny, cramped writing. When she touched the dear woman’s shoulder, Gran pulled her into an emphatic hug, her thin arms amazingly strong, especially for one who’d so recently been bedridden.
“My sweet lass,” Gran said, her voice tremulous, “it was such a pleasure to meet you. I’ll miss your sweet smile.”
“Not as much as I shall miss you,” she replied as she fought back tears. It was a losing battle, she knew, as Gran’s sentiments served to heighten her own. Before long, they’d both be one great emotional puddle.
Gran stroked her hair and then turned back to the book she’d been perusing. “Look here. I have something for you. It’s one of the Thorton almanacs; your grandparents wrote down many particularly fond and amusing entries about your mother this year, and I think you should have it.” Gram’s voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “In the spring of this year, your mother experienced her first infatuation with one of the village lads. Oh, how your grandparents fretted and fussed over it. I needn’t tell you she didn’t end up with that one, but I believe you’ll find it illuminating to read accounts from her parents’ perspective.”
Joy filled her as she gingerly picked up the leather volume. “Oh, Gran! I cannot wait! I was just thinking upstairs that it would be wonderful to have a token by which to remember this visit, and I couldn’t imagine anything this special, this momentous! Are you sure you wish me to have it? This must be the only copy!”
“Aye, Nessie, this is yours now. I’m sure you’ll take great care with it. Something tells me this particular volume belongs with you.” Gran winked knowingly, and heat spread through her as she looked down to the table. “I’m sure that your mother will likewise enjoy the illuminating observations of her parents back then. Now you can take a piece of us with you to London, which would please me greatly.”
“I wish I had something to leave with you too!”
“You have, my lamb, you have! You’re burned into my memory. To see you here in these rooms, to hear you squawking back at the chickens—aye, I heard you!—to feel your warm embrace as you looked after me. You leave me all those wonderful moments. I’d hoped to see your mother return with your aunt, but your visit more than made up for her absence. It is impossible to miss how you favor her, not just in face but in action. It’s been a blessing to see her through you.”
Chapter 26
It was amazing how even Helena’s view of Bradford had changed since her last visit mere weeks ago. Still crowded and smog-filled, it felt more chaotic and precarious. She sensed Mr. Weathers and Vanessa both watching her as their cart crept through the city streets, which were clogged with vehicles, cattle, and pedestrians. A faint but constant tension gripped her belly; it didn’t intensify as she’d expected, though. When Vanessa touched her hand, she attempted to smile.
“Soon, we’ll be home,” her niece said quietly. The warmth and tenderness in that simple word—home—made her throat tighten. So much had changed in such a short time! Yes, London was her home. And yet. She’d thought she’d lost Marksby forever, cast out and condemned. But this visit had given her more than she’d dreamed possible. The Thorton house was her home again, and she would be ever grateful for this glimpse of redemption. Even if she never saw Daniel again, her home and her family were whole again.
She couldn’t believe the terrible things Gordon had said. Wouldn’t believe Daniel capable of such cruelty and manipulation. He simply didn’t have that ugliness in him. How had this man become so dear to her? Their physical indiscretions aside, she truly cared for him as if he were family. She appreciated his kindness, admired—nay, adored—his strength. She saw now the quiet depth of his intellect and his heart. And she would miss him in every cell of her being. Surely, her heart couldn’t physically tear apart, even though that was exactly how it felt. She couldn’t wait to see the boys, to hear their laughter, yet Daniel’s delicate touches on her hand and her shoulder still burned her skin. In their wake, Daniel had become one of the few people she trusted, one of the few with whom she’d felt truly at peace. She never thought she would experience that communion again.
A month ago, she could not have faced this environment. She knew her corner of London well enough, and now she could see that this city, with all its cramped, looming buildings and its crush of strange people resembled London in tenor, if not in physical appearance. Being a complete stranger in this moment should have set her spiraling into panic. Those deep-seated fears were still there, stewing in her mind, but she could see past them now. She could look upon the crowds and see families, see earnest working folk, see goodness and beauty and hope again. She could breathe. She could be in such an environment and laugh again—not entirely unguarded or carefree—but open in a way she hadn’t been for far, far too long.
“There’s the station ahead,” Mr. Weathers said.
As the moment of their parting loomed, she couldn’t convey any of the delicate sentiments swelling in her heart for this man and his wife, both of whom had been devoted to her family since before she was born. She’d promised to return as soon as she could, and to bring her boys with her, but no one could predict the vagaries of time. All she could say was, “This visit has been more than I could have hoped for. I shall cherish every memory and keep you and Mrs. Weathers in my heart!”
When the cart came to a stop, Vanessa’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “Me too, Auntie! So very much.” Vanessa gave the old man a buss on the cheek and promised to return.
“Time to go, dear,” Helena said through the lump in her throat.
As the train slowed, Helena couldn’t begin to process how much had changed in the weeks she and Vanessa had been away. The return trip to London had been remarkably swift and astoundingly uneventful. Even changing trains in Birmingham had been easy, even though the station had seemed even more crowded than the streets of Bradford had been. As they m
ade their way out of Euston Station into London’s bright fog, Vanessa exclaimed, “Goodness, it’s a relief to be in Town again! Ah, to be home!”
“My dear, as near as we are, you cannot tell me you found no joy in the country.”
“Of course, I cannot, Auntie. Marksby is so quaint and charming in its own way.” The girl’s airy, dismissive persona resurfaced so quickly. How unfortunate. This was the girl whose parents had wanted her away from the city. She searched for any sign of the other girl, the one who’d marveled at the tranquility of the rolling hills and the kindness of her kin. Nothing. Vanessa’s demure expression, the coy quirk of her lips, the air with which she walked, everything about her demeanor suggested the dangerously selfish and flirtatious young woman hadn’t changed at all. It was really too much for any of them to expect that a few weeks away would effect a total transformation. But then the sweet girl linked arms with her, and she heard Ness quietly add, “It is a different world there. I am so glad I accompanied you. Great-Gran is so remarkable. It was such a bucolic place. I can picture you and Mama as children there, and I shall hold many fond memories of our visit. Thank you for taking me with you.”
Overcome with emotion, she could only reach with her free hand to squeeze her niece’s arm in response. She would hold many memories of the visit, but she wasn’t sure she would ever label them as fond ones, not after all that had happened.
After all the walking they’d done in Marksby, they agreed that there was no need for a cab. Indeed, winding their way through London was remarkably entertaining for its novelty. Streets teemed with life, for better or worse. And while Helena had a few moments of tension when passersby crowded in upon her, she never came close to a concerning level of panic. Soon enough, they arrived at her sister’s front door. She had to pause at the bottom of the steps to brace herself. There would be questions, not all of which she could properly answer.